


Warm Inside

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Abuse, Cruelty, Desire, M/M, Rape, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, power, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Alex makes Roger warm inside.





	Warm Inside

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains rape and abusive relationship dynamics that could be extremely troubling to some readers. Please read with the caution appropriate for you.

Warm Inside

“I’m cold, squire.” Roger ladled warm wine Alex had brought him from the kitchens into a goblet as the March winds rattled his parlor window panes like vengeful spirits of the thousands he had killed without a thought during the Sweating Sickness. Useless lives whose deaths had been as devoid of purpose since the prince Roger had been targeting had survived due to the unwitting meddling of Alan of Trebond. 

“The wine will warm you, sir,” Alex assured him as he settled into the upholstered cushions of his couch. 

“Will it warm me inside?” Roger beckoned the boy closer to him, and when the lad obediently approached, he cupped the boy’s chin, stroking his question into it. 

“I should think so, Your Grace.” Alex might have been rattled as a window pane by Roger’s touch, but it didn’t show on his face, and Roger admired his squire’s composure. The lad’s impassivity was part of what made him so irresistible to Roger. His expressionless only flamed Roger’s desire to possess him.

“Are you warm inside?” Roger lowered his voice to a murmur as he grasped Alex’s arm with the hand that wasn’t holding the wine and guided the boy onto the sofa beside him. 

“I’m not cold, sir.” Alex faced the roaring flames in the hearth so Roger couldn’t see if he was flushed. 

“March nights make it hard to feel warm inside, don’t they?” Roger didn’t wait for his squire’s response to this rhetorical question as he extended his goblet to the boy, who stared at it as if it represented every forbidden pleasure. “You hope that spring will come but all you get is damp slush and howling winds that blow through your body.” 

“Spring never comes until April, Your Grace.” Alex’s reply was disappointingly dry. “Regardless of what the calendar says.” 

“Yes, but we always hope for spring to come sooner than that. We spend all winter hoping for spring.” Roger waved the goblet of wine under his squire’s nose, wafting the intoxicating scent up to befuddle the boy’s brain. “Have some wine to warm you inside.” 

“I shouldn’t, sir.” Alex’s eyes dropped to the goblet and then flickered away fast as a sword stroke, but Roger knew that a shouldn’t was a stumble away from falling for temptation. 

“Come, lad. You’re old enough to indulge in some forbidden pleasures.” Roger clucked his tongue chidingly as he pressed the cold gold rim against his squire’s lips. “I won’t remove this from your mouth until you take a sip.” 

He could see that the boy’s eyelids were already beginning to droop from breathing in the stupefying blend of herbs—a mixture he had learned in Carthak to make slaves unable to resist or remember even the most violent sex—and he smiled as he asked, “The wine tastes wonderful, doesn’t it.” 

“Yes, sir.” Alex’s speech was slurred, elongating the s’s, and Roger smirked with the understanding that the herbs were already lulling his squire into a doze. 

He continued to watch Alex’s lips with growing greed on his face as his squire sipped the wine with increasing slowness as drowsiness made his head sag toward his chest. When Alex was done, he leaned his mouth against the boy’s ear. “You’re warm inside now, aren’t you?” 

Alex’s head rose and fell with the air of someone so separated from reality as to agree to anything anyone stated. 

“You’ll warm me inside then, won’t you?” Roger bit at Alex’s ear, noting with a thrill of pleasure that Alex was too incapacitated by the herbs to fight his sudden roughness. “It’s only fair after I’ve warmed you inside, isn’t it?” 

Alex gave another nod, even smaller and fainter than the previous one. 

“Bend over the arm rest.” Since Alex was too limp to do so, Roger positioned his squire over the arm of the sofa. Brisk as the March wind, he reached around the boy’s hips to unbutton the lad’s breeches and yank them down to his knees. Palms gliding to the boy’s upthrust backside, he spread his squire’s cheeks so he could spit into the lad’s hole. While one finger circled the saliva into the boy’s entrance, the rest slid his own breeches down so he could plunge his length into Alex’s tight warmth. 

He nipped at Alex’s exposed neck as his heat spilled into his squire, and when he pulled out, he tugged the boy’s breeches back around his hips. When the lad awakened and walked with a stiff, slow gait as if something inside him hurt, he slapped the boy’s backside, observing with a teasing more cruel than affectionate, “You move as if you’ve a sword stuck up your rump, squire.” 

Alex’s cheeks burned, and he picked up his pace as if it weren’t painful, as if Roger hadn’t broken something inside him.


End file.
